


On Chrysalide

by PettiSmith



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Ahsoka - E. K. Johnston
Genre: F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Happy Ending, Joyful, Lesbians in Space, Loneliness, Love, Love Confessions, Nature, No Lesbians Die, Queer Themes, Sappy, Sensuality, Short One Shot, Smooching, Star Wars References, Togruta (Star Wars), Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:33:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PettiSmith/pseuds/PettiSmith
Summary: Ahsoka Tano crashes into her eventual happiness... and it only took about 30 years of repression to get her there.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Bail Organa & Ahsoka Tano, Kaeden Larte/Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	On Chrysalide

**Author's Note:**

> This little vignette was birthed from a desire to 1) Paint an image of Ahsoka as the hunky dreamboat she surely grew to be... and 2) Give her character the happy ending and love she deserves.   
> It's a one-shot. For now. :)

**In a galaxy so vast, it was easy to feel lonely & lost. ** **Especially, that is, when you were all alone and, well, lost.**

Ahsoka’s ship, freshly stolen or _borrowed_ , she assured herself, had just collided with an unregistered, tropical forest moon in the Outer Rim. She hadn’t intended on keeping this particular beater of a ship for long but crash-landing it, after a failed hyperspace jump, was certainly unexpected. As it were, “unexpected” was a word that had far too often found its way into Ahsoka Tano’s world.

The ship dug deep into moist earth and settled in a heap of wires and wings. Slowly blinking heavy lids across blue eyes, matched only in severity by the rare lapis lazuli, she shook the pain from her body and assessed the area for potential damage. A gloved hand smoothed over each striped lekku, draped profoundly over her shoulders, and up to firmly pointed montrals. Age had increased their height and prominence steadily over the years. Now, at more than twice her age during the Clone Wars, Ahsoka stood above 6-feet tall with all facets considered. She brought her fingers to her temples, prodding down the length of her sharp jaw, and slowly traced the white markings that decorated her orange skin. They had shifted slightly with maturity, something she found reassuring in her reflection. It was good to grow old, not everyone was lucky. Physical review completed—a little bruised but nothing irreparable—she cautiously stripped out of her pilot’s harness, glad to have been strapped in so tightly. Such a silly precaution seemed to have saved her slightly worse for wear skin.

Where the krif was she? Nothing about her current position held familiarity, rare for someone as well-traveled as she. Then again, this galaxy was always full of secrets and promises of surprise. Not necessarily a bad thing, if you allowed optimism to tease your disposition. Ahsoka reached out with the Force and was met by uncharacteristic lightness, hope. That confirmed it. This was indeed a world she had yet to be sent by Bail Organa, founding member of the Alliance to Restore the Republic, most often referred to as the _Rebellion_.

And, certainly, she had never touched foot here during those harrowing teenage years she spent fighting the Clone Wars. Ahsoka found her memories of the Clone Wars a source of anguish but she often bit down on that pain in order to reminiscence about her wartime companions. Her Master, Anakin Skywalker, and his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, were like family to her. The bond Anakin and Obi-Wan shared was not unlike love, or at least Ahsoka thought so, not that she had much to go by. The Jedi were not permitted to distract or hinder themselves with such admittances, something that haunted her for many years following her departure from the Jedi Order. Whether Anakin and Obi-Wan had survived the Jedi purge was sadly still a mystery to her. Regardless, she carried them with her, always.

It had been over 15 years since Ahsoka refused her return to the Jedi Order, a decision influenced by their dogmatic, if not militant, approach to peacekeeping and their reluctance to form those taboo connections. And now, most of those stubborn council-members, if not all, along with thousands of Jedi, were gone. Anakin might fondly quip that it was luck. Obi-Wan might say divinity. But somehow, Ahsoka had found herself amongst only a few Force wielders to survive Order 66. The slaughter of the Jedi marked the end of the Clone Wars and the beginning of a new fascist Empire, led by Emperor Palpatine, or Darth Sidious, and the masked sadist, Darth Vader. Those Sith had their fingers in everything, ruling by fear and oppression, with the dark side of the Force fueling their authority. Ahsoka was no longer a Jedi but nothing about the dark side tantalized her.

She floated amongst the stars for years, grounded temporarily on select planets, pulled strongly by the light to help those in need. Her presence was often welcomed but fleeting. Doomed to remain in hiding as Vader’s violent crusaders, known as Inquisitors, hunted the galaxy for all those graced even by a flicker of Force sensitivity. Ahsoka had been discovered on a few occasions, her white-bladed lightsabers the result of cleansing kyber crystals sourced from an Inquisitor’s blade on one such run-in. That battle, on the planet Raada, stung with a potent venom in her head & heart. She had made deep connections there. Too deep, according to Ahsoka and her Jedi indoctrination. But she had managed to rescue many of the local farmers on Raada from the tight vice of the Empire with Bail Organa’s assistance. And so, despite her reclusive efforts and Jedi faith apprehension, she had become a part of the Rebellion, set on dismantling the Empire and restoring hope to the galaxy.

None of that would matter much longer, if she couldn’t get her bearings and find a way to her ordered destination. Ahsoka peered through her shattered cockpit, thankful for the breathable air, and took in the lush vegetation before her. Mighty trees reached high into copious cloud coverage; mountainsides covered in thick greenery on the horizon. The pulse of the Force throbbed in her veins. This place was thick with it. Good, she thought, perhaps sentient life would be present, or at least creatures she could commune with through the Force. She wrestled herself from the wreckage and took a step out onto the wet land. Still slightly shaken from the crash, but resolute, she set out with her lightsabers fixed to her hips and a bantha skin pack of rations and medical supplies slung over her shoulder.

Ahsoka hummed to herself as she walked. Maybe she should meditate, she wondered briefly, before resolutely deciding otherwise. This planet was so rife with the Force, simply maintaining a quiet melody allowed her to tap into the cadence of the atmosphere, remaining in unison with the abundant energy present. Something here was waiting for her, a sense she couldn’t shake. Her heart raced beneath her leather-bound chest. One foot in front of the other, heading in a direction she was somehow sure of, a level of surety beyond data-pads and holo-maps. Lost and alone, but confident as ever, she pressed on.

As a Togrutan, she was expected to be peaceful and passive by nature. Those expectations always had a way of buzzing Ahsoka like a pest. Her people were not fighters but artists and scholars, proud of their indigenous culture. But Ahsoka was a skilled warrior at her core. Her talents, beyond intellectual, lied in acrobatics, able to move quickly and nimbly while wielding two lightsabers—a unique style of combat even for a Jedi. She was lanky as a Padawan learner, with long limbs that allowed for each movement to remain fluid and swift. Those extremities, aching now, had filled out over the years with sculpted muscle. As she had grown taller, her body had matured into a tight, lean, mass of trained strength.

Proceeding between dewy leaves under the canopy of rubber trees, her leatherwear clung to her curves, stopping short at her sturdy thighs to reveal long, orange skinned legs, planted firmly in her boots. Broad shoulders and a full chest fit faultlessly into her scant armor. With speed and experience on her side, heavy protective wear was only an impediment. More than pleasantly humid here, she was thankful for her minimal attire.

Ahsoka stopped short—her quiet humming had suddenly become harmonious with more than the native planetary Force. She probed through the energy around her and connected with a familiar signature. Morai, a small condor, fluttered down between the leaves and perched on Ahsoka’s outstretched arm. Ahsoka and the creature were tied together by the spirit of the Daughter, an ethereal wielder and protector of the light side of the Force. The Daughter had selflessly sacrificed her life for Ahsoka, many years priors, and Morai had appeared as a guardian to her ever since. She felt instantly comforted by her avian friend’s presence but also sure it meant that her journey was likely to become more involved, for better or worse.

Ahsoka marched on, in search of answers to questions she was only just now allowing herself to ponder. Why, exactly, was this planet unregistered? Bail had only mentioned that she was on a mission, tailor-made for her, and redirected her from her current outpost on Thabeska. She had been to Thabeska in her earlier life and found herself involved with the Fardi family, who happened to harbor a Force sensitive child. Ahsoka was sent there regularly now to monitor the youngling’s growth and ability from afar. Remaining undercover on Thabeska was incredibly painful. The young Hedala Fardi was like a sister to her and the inability to step in as her mentor left Ahsoka with a rock of guilt that settled in her gut. But Bail’s new direction had come in quickly, with his usual calm-urgency. Ahsoka focused her signature on Hedala’s, said a distant goodbye, and hopped the closest ship she could find.

It had been years of often-failed missions. Of course, the victories were monumental and celebrated, but seldom. Ahsoka punished herself by remaining as reclusive as the missions would allow. Bail was her closest confident and his worry for her was palpable. Ahsoka’s skills were unrivaled and her contribution to the Rebellion had pushed it into a realm otherwise unattainable. Although, Ahsoka would never admit to or hear those truths, no matter who spoke them. She carried the weight of loss and failure with her like a phantom limb. On rare occasion, Ahsoka would dream and find herself at peace, in the presence of a young love she never allowed to flourish. Bail was the only soul privy to this stunted would-be-romance that Ahsoka buried too deep to bloom. He hurt for her. Ahsoka felt that agony in his energy, yet another source of guilt she held onto tightly.

Bail’s coordinates, given to Fulcrum—Ahsoka’s Rebellion code name—were askew. She knew he had missed a beat; she also knew she could figure it out. A welcomed challenge. But Ahsoka was more focused on something else in Bail’s message. He had signed off with a sincere “thank you”, a sentiment he had uttered many times before, but never with this intonation. It gave Ahsoka the nagging feeling that this “thank you” echoed more like “goodbye”.

On this unregistered tropical planet, Ahsoka thought of that last message from Bail and had a sneaking suspicion that she was exactly where he wanted her to be. Right here, right now. If he had known she would crash into this discovery, maybe he would have played it differently. Maybe not. Bail had an interesting sense of humor. Ahsoka laughed with Morai, realizing he was just a typical father. Dad jokes and protective impulses don’t always mix.

It had been hours now, but the suns were still high overhead. Bright light, filtered through the canopy, gave the illusion of a glittering path. The Force was beautiful to behold here. It felt like a room full of laughter, contagiously leaking out in all directions. So deep in this thought, she could almost hear the laughter. Ahsoka shook her head. "My montrals are sure playing tricks on me again", she muttered to herself.

Morai fluttered ahead of her, in an adamant fashion that could only mean to follow. Ahsoka picked up her pace, sure that her racing heart would tire out completely if she didn’t find what, or who, was waiting for her on this planet. She was running now, just behind Morai, giddy with the energy vibrating around her. Morai stopped. A waterfall roared in front of them. But it wasn’t just the noise that caught her attention—this waterfall seemed to be falling up. Yes, surely, this waterfall was magnificently disobeying physics. Its effect was stunning. Ahsoka reached into its upward flow and felt the presence of joy. Nature sure was playful here. She basked in that euphoria for a moment, watching as Morai flew behind the stream and through a tunnel carved in moss-covered stone.

Into the tunnel they traveled together, the smell of fresh spring water all around them. The sound of laughter Ahsoka had been trying to ignore was becoming more and more unshakeable. Emerging at the mouth of the tunnel, Ahsoka and Morai looked out at a vast green valley. An array of creatures grazed and galloped between the broad tree trunks and lush flora. Ahsoka’s breath caught in her chest. A village was spread out on the horizon. Laughing, playing, working—a group of individuals, many races and ages, seemed to be living harmoniously here.

Ahsoka stepped into the valley, slowly but with purpose. She waited.

The door of the hut on the farthest Eastern side of the ravine flung open. Out of the framework emerged Kaeden Larte, a smile spread across her face as she knowingly looked across the land toward Ahsoka. She was older, yet even more breathtaking than Ahsoka remembered. The abundant joy on this planet had been good to her. Ahsoka felt warm from the inside out at the sight of her once-lost love. The connection she had made with Kaedan on Raada, all those years ago, was something she tried desperately to suppress, admittedly without success. It’s difficult to control dreams, even for a Force wielder, maybe especially for a Force wielder. But here on this planet, she let that dream-like love fill her up, all the way through.

Kaeden, not a Force wielder but very close with the earth, must have instinctively felt Ahsoka’s presence. She glowed from beneath her rich brown skin, beaming with the same love Ahsoka was releasing into the wild. She ran toward Ahsoka and stopped short, just inches apart in the radiant valley. Kaeden reached out toward Ahsoka’s striking face and ran her thumb down her chiseled cheekbone to the edge of her plump lips.

“I missed you, ya know?”, Kaeden managed to breathe out. “I know.”, Ahsoka replied, and pulled Kaeden into her arms.

They met with a heated passion. Ample lips parted, years of desire on their tongues pressing between them. Ahsoka ran her hands down Kaeden’s exposed back, softly lingered on her toned waist, and finally gripped her hips, pulling Kaeden’s body flush against her own. Kaeden’s mouth wandered from Ahsoka’s tender lips to her neck and back again, leaving a trail of ecstasy only befitting fifteen lustful and anticipatory years now bridged. They pulled apart for a moment, catching their breath, both unsure of the reality before them.

Ahsoka had dreamed of what could have been—what should have been—with Kaeden. But no fantasy could measure up to the woman who stood before her now. Kaeden’s eyes reflected a hue of honey, with gold facets that caught the light with a sparkle. A dusting of freckles settled on her cheeks, just beneath her dark lashes. Her long jet-black hair, tied in many thick braids, was adorned with pieces of this earth’s bounty—shells and wrappings made of stripped root. Her braids settled over bare shoulders that shone with the sun. Soft linen wrapped and hung effortless on Kaeden’s powerful yet petite frame, revealing more of her body than Ahsoka had ever beheld in the past. She kissed her hard with fervent longing, a deep breath held between the two of them. They released in unison and entangled their strong hands, fingers laced gracefully as if it were a practiced behavior.

Kaeden finally spoke, “We’ve all been waiting for you to visit us here on Chrysalide. Miara’s here. Selda’s here. We’re all here.” She led Ahsoka to the village and introduced her to what was a refugee camp for Rebellion farmers and families. An unregistered safe haven with bountiful soil, they were able to provide nutrient-rich rations to the Rebel crews. Bail had done it again, Ahsoka mused to herself. Miara, Kaeden’s younger sister, acted as a shuttle. Now a trained pilot, she carried their harvest to various outposts across the Outer Rim. Kaeden was responsible for surveying and conserving the land. She analyzed new crops and ensured this planet, their home, was never overworked, over-harvested, or endangered. Of course, Selda, a fellow Togrutan, was back to running the cantina and proudly provided a place to let loose and unwind for all who entered.

Ahsoka’s whole body throbbed with pleasure and, for the first time in her life, she allowed the sensation to take hold. Her hand in Kaeden’s, Morai at her shoulder, and a whole planet of abundant happiness before her. She raised Kaeden’s hand up to her eager, dark lips and kissed it softly, “I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m here now. Let’s get started.” Kaeden blushed. Ahsoka had become so much surer of herself in the years between them. She spoke with clear, thoughtful intention now, but her mischievous spirit still twinkled in her eyes—those eyes, a rare shade of ultramarine Kaeden had sought for over a decade. She drank Ahsoka in. Handsome, strong, sweet––her love, ready to bloom.

“Yes, let’s get started”.


End file.
